


Distractions

by anactoriatalksback



Series: I cannot drink too much of Brutus' love [2]
Category: Silicon Valley (TV)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Established Relationship, If That's What You're Into, Jared can be a bit scary, M/M, Mildly Dubious Consent, Porn with Feelings, Richard sucks Jared's fingers, Richard's brain is a crowded place, That's also not how you use a tie, That's not how you use a belt, Under-negotiated Kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-11
Updated: 2017-09-13
Packaged: 2018-12-26 16:21:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,613
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12062655
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/anactoriatalksback/pseuds/anactoriatalksback
Summary: Now that they're actually doing this, Jared wants to have at Richard without distractions. Distractions like Richard.





	1. Proposition

**Author's Note:**

> Look, I really don't know what's wrong with me. At some point I am going to go back to agonised, pompous pieces about The Many Issues of Richard Hendricks. But in the meantime, the smut won't let me be. And also, because I am a needy idiot with no self control, here is a sort of prologue before the actual....you know....stuff.

When Richard and Jared announce that they'll carry on working at Jared's condo, Dinesh and Gilfoyle barely raise an eyebrow. There are mutters about how it'll certainly be easier for _them_ to get shit done without the King and Queen of Nerd Prom around, which Richard and Jared correctly interpret as the Dinesh/Gilfoyle version of 'fine, you two crazy kids have fun'.

'Though it's anyone's guess how much work they'll actually get done', says Gilfoyle.

'Yeah, probably too busy correcting each other's grammar', says Dinesh.

'Richard's grammar is impeccable', says Jared with a glow.

Dinesh and Gilfoyle don't even bother to repress a shudder.

They actually do get work done, though. Jared's place is quiet and calm. Jared works by the kitchen island, Richard types in the living room. From time to time Jared brings Richard tea and drops a light kiss on top of his head. From time to time Richard will glance over and see Jared's dark head bent over his laptop, bathed in the warm pool of light of his island.

And - now that Richard isn't thinking that each time is the last time - it's... _easier_....to watch Jared's long fingers move over his keyboard, or to look at the bend of his neck, or the curve of his lower lip, without snatching at them. It's easier to watch Jared put on his pants, to leave a room, without clutching for him.

EasiER. Not easy.

He says as much to Jared, as they're getting ready for bed. Jared beams. 'I know, isn't it a _luxury_ , Richard? And to think, one day, we might-', and then he stops.

'One day?', says Richard. 'One day we might what, Jared?'

Jared shakes his head. Richard goes to him.

'Jared?', he says. 'Tell me. Do you - is there something - fuck, Jared, something you need that you're not getting?'

Jared takes Richard's hand swiftly. 'Richard, no! You are - oh, Richard, how could you say that? It's nothing, Richard, I promise, I don't, it's not important-'

'What do you need, Jared', says Richard, because there's something, Richard knows there is, Jared never asks for anything, it's impossible, and Richard can't stand it, can't stand thinking that Jared could want something, have gotten it somewhere else, but want to what spare Richard? Or - better still - that Jared's never asked anyone for this thing, whatever it is, and Richard will be the only one to give it to him, and that at least is a part of Jared that Richard will have forever. Only Richard and nobody else.

Oh, Richard needs to know.

'What is it, Jared', he says. He gets close to Jared. Bites his lip. Shuffles his feet. Glances up through his eyelashes at Jared. He's noticed Jared weakens when he does that.

This time's no different. 'Oh, Richard', Jared sighs, 'I'll - oh, it's so silly. I was just thinking that one day, we might - take our time with each other.' Jared coughs. 'In bed.'

Take their time? What the fuck? They _do_ take their time. They made it _all the way to the bedroom_. Richard's taking his clothes off, like, one item at a time. He's letting Jared do the same, and Jared, lest he need reminding, _folds his socks_. How much slower can this thing _go_?

And then the panic sets in. The hunger the grasping terrible want it makes Richard snatch and gobble Jared like he'll be taken away if Richard doesn't hurry and Jared's a finite resource of course he is not his heart or his fucking conscience or whatever but his appetite for Richard and Richard's exhausting him he knows he is that's where this is going isn't it that Jared's fucking ozone and Richard's scraping him thin and there'll be nothing left no cover around Richard no atmosphere no protection no

'Richard? Darling, breathe.'

His eyes refocus and he sees Jared's face, creased in concern, before him. One large hand is rubbing over his back in comforting circles. Richard clutches the other. Realises he's leaving nail-marks. Lets go immediately. Takes a breath. 'Let's try it.'

Jared frowns. 'Should we be having - Richard, where were you, love, you didn't look well.'

'I'm fine', says Richard. 'I'm great. We'll - we're going slow.'

And he marches to the bed and sits down. 'Here we go. Going slow.'

Jared laughs. It's kind, warm, infinitely loving. Richard wonders what it is like, to be like that. To be warmed and made content by love. To not careen from terrible joy to terrible fear in the same instant. To be able to enjoy love without being plagued by marrow-deep _need_. To know that you are the better half. To have it in your power to give, and give, and give. To not be one aching cry of _yes, give me this, and this, give me all there is_.

'I want -', Richard says, 'I want you to have what you want.'

Jared smiles. 'You are what I want.'

Richard sighs. He can't help the feeling, of being shaken and steadied at once, when Jared says things like that. 'We'll go as slow as you need, Jared. I - I want what you want.'

And there it is. Jared's eyes fill, and he clasps Richard's hand. 'Love, that's-'

And Richard hopes this still comes under the heading of 'taking his time', but he takes Jared's chin and leans in for a kiss.

Richard likes kissing Jared. Whichever Alien Picasso created Jared's face, they saw fit to give him lips in the exact configuration of a rosebud. They should be ridiculous, in that long thin face. They should be obscene. They probably are both those things, but when they're opening for Richard like he's the first rains after a drought, who cares? When Richard can nip at that fine upper lip and that full, lush bottom lip, who cares? When Richard can trace every dip and crease in Jared's mouth with his teeth and tongue - oh yes, definitely his tongue - who cares? When Jared's moaning beneath him, who cares?

So Richard is a little disoriented when Jared pushes him back and says 'Richard, what I meant was that _I_ would like to take my time with _you_.'

 


	2. Sonata

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 'Richard, would you let me? Would you let me - oh, dwell on you? Would you let me linger? Would you let me worship you?'
> 
> Let Jared linger? Let Jared take his time with him? Let Jared savour him? Savour him in turn?
> 
> Yes, Richard thinks he can do that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Obviously, I should wait to post the whole thing, but - well, I did say I have no self-control.

'I would like to take my time with you', says Jared.

Richard blinks. 'O-okay, what does that mean?'

There's a little colour in Jared's cheeks now. 'Well - well, when we first - began, Richard, we were always - well, we were always in rather a hurry.'

Yes, they were. A clutching, fumbling, desperate hurry. To shove the bare minimum of clothing aside so that they could just get at each other, try to feed the clamouring hunger so that they could feel human again.

It worked, but never for very long. Even now - even now, knowing that he could reach out and touch Jared any time he wants, Richard feels the thrum under his skin get faster, faster, faster...

He actually does reach out for Jared while he's thinking this, and Jared's large hand holds his own.

'Well, you see, love, I never - I wanted to _savour_ you, Richard. And there never seemed to be time.'

There never seemed to be time because of Richard's gluttony for Jared, his lips, his tongue, his teeth, his long slender body, his voice, his beautiful eyes, his _everything all at once now_.

Richard's eyes fly to Jared's. 'Jared, fuck, I'm so - I didn't-'

Jared's hands tighten on Richard's. 'Richard, it was me too. I couldn't - oh, Richard, I couldn't believe it was real, that you would want me, that you would _keep_ wanting me. I wanted to have as much of you as you would let me, as quickly as I could before you - before it stopped.'

As much of Richard as he would let Jared have? All of him, then. All of him that he knows of, and acres, tons, fucking entire night skies of Richard that he didn't even know he _had_ to give. All Jared's, the moment his eyes touched Richard's.

'But now -', Jared breathes out. 'Now, I - I - oh, Richard, would you let me? Would you let me - oh, _dwell_ on you? Would you let me _linger_? Would you let me _worship_ you?'

Let Jared linger? Let Jared take his time with him? Let Jared savour him? Savour him in turn?

Yes, Richard thinks he can do that.

'Was that - was that all?', he asks, incredulous.

Jared's face falls. 'If you don't - I did say it was nothing, I -'

'Come here', growls Richard, leaning in for a kiss.

Jared puts out a hand to stop him, and Richard's stumped again.

'I need to explain, Richard. I'd like - I'd like to be able to -', and there's that delicate pink flush again, 'to have my way with you.'

 _Yes_.

Jared continues : 'without distractions.'

Distractions?

Jared's speaking a little faster now, sounding more and more embarrassed. 'I - I -when you reach for me, Richard, I - I forget what I was about to do, I'

Well, thank fuck Richard isn't the only one silly with lust, but Jared isn't making sense.

'But - Jared, I mean, isn't that - I mean, aren't we doing - this - like, together?'

'Yes, Richard, yes, like - like jazz.'

....Sure.

'But music can be played by soloists as well, Richard.'

'......isn't that jerking off? In this context?'

Does Jared want to jerk off? Will he let Richard watch him? Richard is very game. Very, very game.

 _'No_ , Richard', Jared tsks, and God help him maybe Dinesh and Gilfoyle have a point about him and Jared, because Richard should not find it such a turn-on to be corrected in the bedroom, 'Masturbation implies a solo _audience_ , not a solo _player_.'

'No, but it's implied, like, if there's more than one person doing it it's not jerking off, and you could masturbate for an audience, so - ' and Richard is quite happy to continue in this vein until an awful thought catches up with him, 'Jared? Would - would it be better if your - if your jazz partner were - were better?'

It would have to be, right, Jared's fucking - fucking Miles Davis paired with a Bar Mitzvah boy with halitosis and braces, of course it would be better with a better partner, oh God - 

And Jared tilts his chin up and says firmly 'My jazz partner is everything - _everything_ , Richard, and more - that I could ever have wanted.'

And Richard doesn't know how he does it, but the unswerving conviction in those huge blue eyes just - oh, Richard could look into those eyes all day.

So Richard takes in a breath while Jared continues 'But sometimes - sometimes, Richard, I wonder how the sonata I had prepared would sound.'

And Jared raises his head and stares so raptly into Richard's eyes that he forgets to breathe for a moment.

When he remembers, he coughs and says, with a little orchestra-conducting gesture he instantly regrets 'Well, play on, maestro'.

He is rewarded with a giggle - an actual honest-to-God giggle that cancels the regret - and a blinding grin from his friend. 'Thank you, impresario!'

.......Sure.

 'So, um - ' Richard clears his throat, 'this sonata - how did it start?'

Jared smiles at him. 'Well, ordinarily I would remove your clothes - '

'Oh. So - ' Richard looks down at himself, 'I - I've already taken off my shirt. Is this - should I - put it back on - or - '

He doesn't want to ruin Jared's classical music or whatever, but - fuck - he hadn't really bargained for like a dress code, and - 

'No, Richard', Jared says, 'it's fine, you're fine, you're - ' and he slides one hand behind Richard's head and bends to kiss him, lips brushing gently against Richard's.

And oh, if this is how the sonata begins, Richard can already tell he's going to love it. He sighs beneath Jared's lips and reaches out with his hand - 

And curses as Jared withdraws.

'Sonata, Richard. Remember?'

'Fuck!' This is going to be difficult. 'What am I - '

''Just - just try not to move, or touch me.' Jared caresses Richard's cheek. 'Please?'

Richard nods, putting his hands under him. 'Can I - can I kiss you?'

'No touch, Richard.'

Fuck! 'Can I kiss you back when you kiss me?'

Jared smiles, coming in closer. 'Yes', he breathes against Richard's lips, 'kiss me back, love.'

And for a few blissful moments, Richard gives himself up to that firm, tender mouth, that clever, subtle tongue, the whisper of Jared's breath on his cheek, the delicate throb he leaves behind him as he nips on Richard's bottom lip, the faint rasp of stubble on his cheek under Richard's hand -

Fuck! Jared lifts his head, looking as close to annoyed as a living Jared Dunn is capable of looking. 'Richard, darling - '

'I know', says Richard, glaring at the offending hand, 'I'm sorry, Jared, i - '

'Richard, if you don't want to - we don't have to do this, it's - '

'No', says Richard, reaching for Jared and remembering to snatch his hands back, 'it's fine, I'll remember, just - just do whatever it was you were doing?'

And Jared does.

And oh God, it's wonderful, the hushed still waiting torment of it. Jared whispers feather-light kisses on Richard's eyelids. His eyelashes flutter exquisitely against Richard's cheeks. He laps sweetly under Richard's chin. He presses kisses and murmurs into Richard's collarbone. His long, elegant fingers trace intricate patterns up and down Richard's torso, his arms, his neck.

Every touch leaves Richard gasping, parched, aching. Every kiss makes Richard thrum. Ever flicker of his tongue makes Richard want to draw Jared into himself.

So of course, it's a little difficult to remember Jared's whole kissing/touching embargo.

By the third time it happens, Richard's not feeling particularly apologetic.

'Richard, darling - '

'I know', Richard mumbles, 'but Jared - '

'Richard', pleads Jared, 'love, try. For me. Be good for me. Can you - can you do that?'

And oh, Richard wants to be good for Jared. More than anything does he want to be good for Jared.

'I'll try, I'll try, Jared.'

But how can he help it, when he feels the silken brush of Jared's hair against his abdomen? When Jared's pressing hot, open-mouthed kisses to the top of his waistband? When he can feel the tickle of Jared's tongue on his erection through his jeans?

So he's prepared for a scolding, when his fingers find themselves in Jared's hair. He is prepared to apologise, again. To try, again. He _is_ trying, goddammit, he just - oh, Jared, if you could only see, if you could only _feel_ , what you're like, you'd -

What he's not prepared for, is Jared's face.

Jared's mouth is very still. Not thin, not pursed, but held firmly. His eyes are slightly narrowed, and they're raking over Richard.

Richard feels - pinned. Weighed. Measured. Found.... wanting, but with promise.

He can feel his breathing speed up, his cock twitch in his jeans.

'Oh, Richard', sighs Jared. 'What _are_ we going to do with you?' 

Richard can't answer.

Jared seems to reflect. His head is cocked to one side as he considers Richard, and Richard knows - he _knows_ , in a blinding flash of clarity - that this is burlesque, it's performance, that Jared already knows what he's going to do.

Jared's eyes snap back to Richard's, and Richard finds himself snapping to attention immediately, even half-prone and at half-mast. 'Stay.'

Richard stays. He couldn't move if he tried. 

Jared gets up. He goes to his chest of drawers - his psychotically well-ordered chest of drawers - and rummages. Richard watches with growing impatience, and is about to ask what Jared's doing when Jared comes back. His hands are behind his back.

'If you can't be trusted to keep your hands to yourself, Richard, we'll have to find a way to do it for you.'

He brings his hands out from behind his back. 

In the left is a blue silk tie.

In the right is a leather belt.

'Take your pick.'


	3. Begging for your playing hands

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Richard doesn't know how long Jared spends playing his sonata: hours, minutes, seconds, days, he doesn't know anymore.
> 
> It's hell.

'Pick one.'

Richard doesn't need to ask if Jared's serious. He knows, and his blood's fizzing in his veins.

'Which - ', he clears his throat, 'what's the difference between them?'

Jared lights up like Richard's asked him to explain corporate tax rate history across the state of California, 1999 - present. Which, for the record, Richard has never done and would need to be very, very, very desperate to make Jared smile to even contemplate doing.

'Well, Richard, the tie, of course, is softer, more flexible, allows for greater variation. The belt makes for a more rigid hold.'

Richard nods. Jared continues, brightly, as though Richard's asked a question:

'Now, you're thinking that it's not obvious that the leather offers a tighter hold, and of course that's true. The silk is gentler, but a gentle hold can be just as hard to break.'

Richard nods again as Jared continues, dreamily:

'You might work free of a half-Windsor, but an Eldredge knot, Richard, an Eldredge is even and intricate. Or I could tie a bowline. It would never loosen or tighten no matter how much you pulled at it. It would take you hours, darling, hours in which I could crawl over you, and lick, and suck, and nip, and feel. Hours of you, at my mercy.'

Richard opens his mouth. Closes it again.

Jared looks at him, eyes widening, and rushes into speech. 'Richard, wouldn't - we don't have to do this, love, forget I asked, I-

Richard shakes his head, finally working enough saliva into his throat to speak. 'Should - should you tie my feet too?'

Jared's eyes fly to Richard. He can feel his cheeks grow scarlet, and his tongue feels too big for his mouth, but he tries to explain.

'Um - because you said sonata, so no distractions, and like I know I, um, it's not just my hands, I - I - in bed, the, my, my legs, they, you know, so, if, and since like you have two things and so-?'

There is a very long moment of silence. Richard is about to either repeat himself or combust of embarrassment when there is a strangled noise and Jared is kissing him as though he's the last source of oxygen on the planet.

'I don't deserve you', Jared breathes. 'Oh, Richard, I wonder sometimes if I'm still in that coffin and all this is a dream before I suffocate.'

Richard gulps. He's not quite sure what he's just agreed to, but there's a crackling in his veins and Jared is looking at him like he's his Captain, his North Star and home, all at once. 'So -so- which do we use for -?'

Jared presses gently on Richard's chest, and Richard lies down obediently. 'Hands over your head, Richard.'

Richard puts his hands over his head. Jared tugs gently at them until Richard feels his fingers close over the wrought-iron post.

Oh.

Jared bends over Richard, absent-mindedly pulling the silk tie through his long fingers.

Richard feels very thirsty.

Gently Jared lifts Richard's wrists, slipping the tie under them. He bends where Richard can't see him. The only clue to his movements is the shusha-shusha of the silk, and a gentle tightening at Richard's wrists.

'There', says Jared, sitting back. 'The Eldredge knot. I'll tie it for you the next time you're arraigned for anything.'

'Thanks?'

'Try it', urges Jared, like he's given Richard a new toy.

Gingerly Richard pulls. Nothing happens.

'I'd suggest a harder pull', says Jared. 'I need to know if it'll hold.'

Richard pulls harder. Then harder still, bucking against the bedpost. The tie seems to flex around him, allowing him circulation, but doesn't give.

There's a sound - a breathy, harsh moan - from Jared. Richard turns to look at him, and his own breath stops.

Jared has his hand on his heaving chest. His eyes are dark, his lips parted.

'You look', he says, hoarsely, 'oh, Richard, if you knew how you look.'

Richard thinks he probably looks ridiculous, skinny arms pinned over his head, thrashing about on Jared's conveniently-old-fashioned bed, but when Jared looks at him, he feels....dwarfed by his regard, and infinitely strong at the same time. He feels like a giant. He feels like a god, and like something precious and fragile.

He draws his legs up, first one, then the other. Spreads them slowly. If Jared's going to keep looking at him, Richard's going to at least _try_ to put on a show.

It seems to work. Jared draws in a long, careful breath, and crawls over to Richard, eyes wide and intent on him.

'I need', he says, and swallows, 'Richard, may I take off your jeans?'

Richard nods, violently.

Jared's hands go to Richard's fly. Richard lifts his hips to help Jared pull off his jeans first, then his boxers. His cock bobs free, more than half hard. Jared looks at it and licks his lips, and Richard lets out a breath. Yes, closer, yes...

But instead Jared gets off the bed and goes to his chest of drawers.

Richard gapes at him. 'Jared, what-?'

Jared comes back to the bed holding another belt. 'For your feet.'

Oh.

Richard swallows as Jared loops one belt around his left ankle and secures it to the post at the foot of his bed. Then the right. 

'Try', says Jared, stepping back.

Richard tries, feeling like he's testing the weirdest shoes known to man. 

'How is it?', says Jared, biting his lip. 'Is it too tight? Richard, will you - will it mark you?'

Will it?

Will the belt-loops mark Richard's ankles?

Tomorrow, when he puts on his shoes, will Richard see a broad, angry band on his feet and know that Jared put it there? When his shoes chafe his feet, will it remind him of this, of this thing that Jared needed from Richard, and that Richard gave him?

His cock twitches, and Jared's eyes widen. Slowly, deliberately, his eyes never leaving Richard's, he tightens the restraint by one notch on the left foot.

Richard whimpers.

Jared exhales, and performs the same office for Richard's right foot.

' _Yes_ ', breathes Richard.

And now he really is on display. Arms over his head, legs pinned, reddening cock against his stomach.

Jared's eyes skitter over him wildly, like he doesn't know where to look, and then he's on Richard, showering kisses on his face.

'I will be', he murmurs brokenly, 'I will be so _good_ to you, Richard. Richard, my darling boy, I will adore you, I will _worship_ you, I will bring you gold, and frankincense, and myrrh, I will, oh, Richard, Richard, _Richard_.'

'Don't need those', says Richard against Jared's mouth. 'Just - just you, Jared. I want-' and Richard can feel Jared's own (clothed) erection against his own, and he can't help the cry 'just - just, _please_ , Jared.'

Jared kisses Richard. Long, languid kisses, tongues tangling lazily together. Heated, urgent presses of mouth and teeth. Sweeter, chaster brushes of lips against lips, cheekbone, hairline, collarbone. 

Curious, exploratory licks in the crook of Richard's elbow, the curve of his knee. 

Careful, delicate bites on Richard's narrow waist, the inside of his thigh.

Intricate, familiar patterns trailing fire along Richard's legs, his thighs, his chest, his arms.

Lush, open-mouthed kisses on Richard's belly, his hip-bone, agonisingly close to where Richard's aching for him to be, and where he...isn't.

And oh God, it's - it's torment, it's miraculous, it's awful. Richard's squirming against his restraints, but Jared's done his job well, and just where did he learn to do it, Richard would like to know, no he wouldn't, never tell me Jared, no tell me so I can fucking ruin his/her/their life, no never never tell me, just just oh God never stop.

'Jared?' Richard croaks, the third time that Jared's within a hairsbreadth of his poor neglected cock without seeming to notice it.

'Hmmmm?' Jared says, and Richard can feel the vibration against his hipbone. He whimpers. Jared looks up.

'What is it, Richard?'

Richard swallows. Jared's lips are swollen from kissing, his eyes are bright, and Richard - just....

'Jared, touch me.'

'Of course!', says Jared, like Richard's asked him to pass the salt, 'of course, Richard!' And he leans in for a kiss.

And kissing is nice - oh, kissing is wonderful - but it's not like Jared to be so dense. 'My - my cock, Jared. Please, just-'

'Oh!', says Jared. And then he looks thoughtful why is he looking thoughtful it's there right there fucking crying out for those soft firm lips, those strong hands, both, just - 

And then Jared says 'I don't think so. Not today'.

He sounds so politely regretful that it takes Richard a moment to realise what he's just said. And then he starts up so violently that the tie yanks painfully at his wrists.

'Richard! Richard, be careful!'

'Jared, what the - why?!?'

Jared places a soothing hand on Richard's chest, and presses down. And Richard is reminded once again of the surprising strength in those long pale hands. 

Jared settles himself next to Richard, head propped up on his hand, and speaks confidingly, free hand trailing in Richard's hair, on his cheek, on his throat.

'Well, when I - when I thought about what I'd like to do - if I ever got to do it, if I was ever that lucky - I'd imagine rain outside, pattering against the windowpanes. The two of us, in this bed. Our own cocoon. And sometimes, Richard, I would spend hours on your cock.' And Richard shudders at the weight, the sheer shock, of a word so crude on Jared's  tongue. 'My lips, my hands, anything you wanted, any way you could use me -'

Oh, this is cruel. 'So why -'

Jared puts a finger on Richard's lips. 'And sometimes, Richard, I'd take my time with you - your wrists, your ears, your hips, your feet - and I wouldn't touch your cock at all.'

Richard is gaping at him in horror. Jared drags his finger across Richard's lip, bends in and whispers 'But I'd still make you come.'

Jared looks at Richard. 'Do you want me to untie you, Richard?'

Richard stares at Jared. Shakes his head slowly. Jared smiles that blinding, happy grin.

And moves to cover Richard with his body.

* * *

 

Richard doesn't know how long Jared spends playing his sonata: hours, minutes, seconds, days, he doesn't know anymore.

It's hell. 

His entire body is an exposed nerve, a trembling ganglion of want. Every touch of Jared's hands, every lick, every kiss, the very brush of his eyelashes, is torment. Richard is thrashing in his restraints, whimpering and pleading for relief, for something, _anything_.

And Jared is remorseless, alternating feather-light strokes with heavier, meaningful pressure. His touch is frantic, urgent, rasping Richard raw...and then light, gentling Richard back from whatever brink he's hurtling towards. 

And every so often, Jared's erection rubs against Richard's - playfully, intently, mischievously - and then it's gone as Jared mouths at Richard's ankle, chafed from his futile squirming.

And Richard is writhing in his restraints, calling out threats, entreaties, sobbing, begging _Jared Jared Jared Jared please_.

And every so often Jared tilts Richard's chin up and asks 'Richard, shall I untie you?'

And - bewildered, aching, furious, panting - Richard shakes his head.

* * *

 

He almost doesn't register it when it happens, he's so lost in his tossing, fitful sea of _Stop more not enough never enough_.

Jared's covering him, his cock pressing against Richard's. Richard's convinced he's doing it on purpose, the sadistic bastard. And Richard knows Jared's aggression has to come out _somewhere_ , but oh God that it should be _this_ way...

Jared's sucking kisses onto Richard's throat, and Richard can feel it, Jared's starting to ratchet him up again, up to the painful mass of need shaking for a reprieve that will never come because Jared's sonata has to be played on a knife edge.

'Please', he whispers, 'Jared, please.'

And Jared lifts his head to look at Richard, and his face softens.

He lifts himself off Richard and opens his bedside drawer. Richard can hear the snikt of a bottle of lube being opened. His eyes drag open to see Jared warming his fingers, smiling gently at Richard.

Richard lets out a shuddering breath. 'Oh, thank _God_.'

Jared smiles again. He slides down over Richard, pulling a pillow with him. He lifts Richard's hips and pushes the pillow beneath them. Richard feels the brush of his hair against his inner thigh as Jared takes a long look.

'So beautiful', he murmurs reverently.

He surges up over Richard, covering his mouth in a kiss. His fingers - slick, now, and warm - wend a delicate, torturous way down, down, down to Richard's perineum, skating lightly, in slow, painful concentric circles, around Richard's hole.

Richard holds his breath, and expels it in an aching gasp as Jared slides in a finger.

Jared lifts his head to look at Richard. 'Is that-'

'Yes', says Richard, on a long-drawn-out sigh. 'Oh God, yes.'

Slowly, meticulously, Jared moves in and out. In and out. Advance, retreat. One finger circling, rubbing, dancing, fencing, long after he's started chanting _'More, fuck, please, more, Jared, more', more, more_  .

Two fingers, then, and Richard moans in relief. Temporary, he knows, as Jared moves and scissors and inches him closer, closer, closer...

Richard's head's thrown back, moving restlessly against his pillow. As Jared flexes, bends, destroys him, all he can do is beg. Beg and hope his friend shows mercy.

Jared's looking at him, and Richard can tell - tell immediately - that he isn't done. His eyes are too rapt, his voice too even when he leans in - still driving Richard - and whispers, as though imparting a fresh new finding, 'Richard? I find your voice quite a distraction too.'.

And Richard can try - if he tries, maybe Jared will give him what he needs and what only Jared can deliver - but he doesn't think he can stop himself.

Jared nods as though Richard's said the words aloud, and rests the fingers of his other hand against Richard's lips.

'Open.'

And Richard opens, obediently.

Jared slides one long finger inside and murmurs 'Suck'.

And Richard obeys - of course he obeys - and draws that long, pale, elegant finger into his mouth. He feels the whorls against his tongue. He nibbles the pad. He sucks Jared's finger in till his cheeks are hollowed out. He laves the tender skin at the base.

When Jared pulls out his finger (over Richard's protesting whine) and slides in two, they're twined together as they enter Richard's mouth. They open inside, and Richard bobs his head up and down, up and down, clenching around them the way he's clenching hungrily around the fingers in his hole.

When Jared asks 'Another?', Richard nods frantically, sobbing with gratitude as a third finger joins the two in his mouth, in his asshole. More, he thinks, more, give me all of it, I want it, it's mine. The fourth is - painful, almost, but Richard's bucking and writhing under Jared now as he sucks and nibbles and clenches, drunk with want. On every third stroke, Jared's knuckles brush against his prostate, and Richard's heart stops. He thinks if he drew on Jared's fingers, he could pull them into himself, so far, so deep inside that they'd meet inside, that they could light a spark like the creation of Adam, that they could make him anew.

'Look at you', whispers Jared.

Richard would rather look at Jared, his eyes dark, his face rapt. He knows he's drooling and choking around Jared's fingers, but he'll die if he lets go, he'll die if he doesn't - 

And Jared leans in and whispers 'next time, shall we try the thumb as well?', pressing down with his thumb on the hollow of Richard's throat.

He twists his fingers inside Richard, finding, zeroing in on, _relentlessly_ , his prostate. Richard's vision whites out and he's coming, helplessly, screaming around Jared's fingers.

When he comes to, Jared's taking off his trousers. His composure's fallen away, his breathing harsh.

'May I?', he asks, and Richard says 'Please'. He lifts his hips off the bed as Jared slicks himself up, lines himself up, presses home.

'You were', gasps Jared as he moves, 'so beautiful. So...abandoned', resting his forehead against Richard's, 'so _wanton_.'

Richard hums in pleasure. A familiar thrum begins in his belly, a sweeter, calmer hunger. He wonders how long he was out, and what the record for the refractory period really is.

'I've never', In. Out. Oh yes yes _yes_. 'Wanted. Anything. So much.'

Richard arches his hips, braces his shoulders against Jared's body. Clenches. Matches his friend's groan. 'Want you. Want - fuck - oh, Jared, fuck, what you do to me.'

Jared raises his head to stare at Richard. Richard cranes his neck for a kiss, and then thumps back, groaning 'Fuck. Fuck, the sonata.'

Jared kisses him, messily, desperately. Richard bites at his friend's lips, tilts his head as Jared mouths his way down Richard's throat. Gasps as Jared's hands - fumbling, for once - reach blindly for his cock. 

A few rough pumps and they're coming together, kissing and biting and sobbing.

Afterwards, Jared's putting lotion on Richard's ankles and wrists, over his protests. Richard's plucking at the edges of Jared's bed. 

Finally he says 'So - that sonata -'

Jared lifts his head to look at him. His eyes are a little apprehensive.

Richard says 'Do - I'd like to - could you play it? Again? Maybe? Sometime?'

Jared's face breaks into a smile of pure sunlight. 'Oh, Richard.'

'I mean', says Richard hastily, 'is - I mean - is jazz still on the, the playlist? Could we - because-'

'Oh, Richard', sighs Jared against Richard's mouth, 'I'd never forget. We're Thelonious Monk and John Coltrane. We're Duke Ellington and Ray Brown. We're -'

And Richard snuggles into Jared's shoulder as he lists famous jazz duos.

Of which, apparently, there are a few.

And Jared knows them all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, Jared and Richard clearly need to set some ground-rules before they bop about the countryside tying each other up and whatnot. They do not do this, because I am awful. You do not have to be. Read responsibly.
> 
> My thanks, as ever, to the lovely and talented [reserve](https://archiveofourown.org/users/reserve) , who talked me off ledges and told me I was pretty when I begged.
> 
> Come yell with me about these idiots on [itsevidentvery](https://itsevidentvery.tumblr.com/).


End file.
